


On Thy Chest I Lie

by Rabenschnabel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Dark Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Behavior, Sickfic, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 20:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabenschnabel/pseuds/Rabenschnabel
Summary: An ambush leaves Lord Voldemort incapacitated and puts things into perspective.





	On Thy Chest I Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lycxris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lycxris/gifts).

> My friend lycxris is sick and I whipped this up real quick to make them feel better <3
> 
> (it got darker than intended bUT.)

When Voldemort came to, his thoughts were fuzzy and blurred. His vision swam like when he'd tried on Harry's glasses that one time and his mouth tasted of iron and bile. 

Indistinct voices were chattering high above him but he couldn't make sense of what they were saying. 

Then, a spell of some kind hit him and engulfed him in golden light and the world snapped back into a semblance of focus. 

There was a fight going on around him and… yes, of course, the _ Order_. He tried sitting up but his body wouldn't obey his command, so he tried to make sense of what was happening from the ground. 

He was lying in the grass on his stomach and could see two pairs of legs from this perspective. Judging by the white dragon leather, one of them must belong to Lucius. The other legs ended in a pair of worn, _ infernal _ Converse sneakers, so Harry was alright, at least. 

A relieved sigh escaped from his lips as he remembered having pulled the young man behind him just in time before a curse even he didn't know could hit him. Unfortunately, it had pierced the shield and was that even legal? 

"We gotta take him back," he heard Harry growling. "_Depulso_!" 

"_Reducto_! And how do you suppose we do that, young Lord? _ Locomotor mortis_!" Lucius was snarling, desperate. "The Anti-Apparition Jinx is still in full effect and fuelled by that _ blasted _ wardstone." 

Voldemort tried again to push himself to his feet and groaned in mortification when it didn't work. Like, at all. No movement whatsoever. 

Between Harry's and Lucius' legs he could see the curly-haired menace heading the Order firing spells at an alarming rate and slowly advancing step by step. 

"_C__onfringo_! Take him and run, Lucius, I'll hold Hermione and the others off." He knew what was coming at this point and cursed under his breath but nothing came out. "**_Protego horribilis_**!" 

A shield like a half-dome sprang into existence around Harry and he remembered telling the young man time and again that it was too much of a drained to use in active fighting situations such as this. 

He could see Lucius start to protest by the way his stance shifted, but some silent conversation between the two he wasn't privy to had Lucius turn around and lift Voldemort up with a spell. 

Then, they were off. Lucius was running towards the edge of the clearing as if hell itself was on his heels with Voldemort's limp body following behind. 

He could still see the fight from the corner of his eyes. Granger, that red-headed blood-traitor sibling duo and the prophecy spare were hammering Harry's shield with shield-penetration spells. 

Just as he thought Harry's huge shield was about to break judging by the way the young man was beginning to shake, a second figure dropped from the sky. 

That was not falling he'd seen, though. A broom? They were all wearing masks, but he recognised the posture and closed his eyes in relief. More fighters on brooms started dropping around Harry and he could feel relief bubbling up inside of him. 

His thoughts were getting hazy and slow again and if only he knew what kind of spell had hit him? 

They must have passed the Anti-Apparition Jinx barriers at some point, because he was suddenly grabbed by Lucius and felt the all-too-powerful tug of Side-Along Apparition. 

In an instant, they crumbled to a heap in what he identified as the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Old habits died hard for dear old Lucius. 

"Narcissa! _ Narcissa_!" 

He vaguely registered the sound of running feet and saw Narcissa clasp her hands in front of her mouth before darkness engulfed him once more. 

-o-

This time, when he floated back to the surface, his mouth tasted fresh and peppermint-y but his mind was still foggy. 

"–is now. That's it, Marvolo, deep steady breaths now. Focus on my voice." 

He tried, he really did, but he sank back into nothingness again. 

-o-

"–have invented it herself, Harry. She always has been brilliant, even if we don't like it." 

"But why try it on me? It was meant for _ me_. Merlin, he should never have stepped in the way." 

"He did, though, and I'm glad about it. That horcrux behind your forehead must have saved his reckless flesh whereas you would have probably died. He'll get better." 

"I know, Barty, it's just… I've never seen him like this." 

"And I've never seen a spell originally meant for healing perverted that much. Quick thinking with the _ finite_. Who knows what–" 

-o-

"Hey, sleepy, can you hear me?" 

Voldemort wanted to answer that of course he did and that they'd had a** talk** about pet names but all that came out was a weak groaning sound he himself felt pity for. 

"Here, try to drink this. Very slowly." 

A straw was gently pushed between his lips and he sucked a little water to wet his mouth and throat. 

"What happened?" It didn't sound quite like his voice, but it was close enough. 

"The Order," Harry told him and now that his eyes were beginning to get used to the half-light, he could see the young man's face properly. "It was an ambush during our Samhain ritual. I guess they wanted to end it on the day it all began?" 

"Spell?" 

"Yes, a powerful one. Hermione must have invented it. At the time we didn't know what it was but we're pretty sure we got it now. You know anesthesia spells, right? This one was inspired by those, only _ worse_. It basically paralysed the parts of your somatic nervous system that are responsible for voluntary muscle control. Thankfully, the somatic nervous system was left alone. It was meant to incapacitate more than anything."

"You?" 

"Yeah, it was meant for me. Barty thinks they wanted to kidnap me." 

Voldemort growled low in his throat and fought against the urge to kill boiling in his blood. 

"You know, after all these years, they still think I'll come back to them," Harry mused, a wistful expression on his face. "But enough of that. We've won the war, they're just a renegade terrorist organisation and next time they'll try an ambush, we'll be prepared accordingly." 

"Casualties?" 

"None on our side. Travers and old Nott were hurt pretty bad but they're well again. Barty and a couple others arrived by broom shortly afterwards and he was pretty mad. Took out Mad-Eye, the Tonks woman and he's pretty sure he got Weasley too?" 

"Which one?" 

"Does it matter?" 

It didn't. 

Harry reached out with a cool, soft hand and stroked his cheek and Voldemort shivered involuntarily at the contact. His eyes fluttered closed as his lover leaned forwards and pressed the softest kiss against his lips. 

"It'll be some time yet, but we'll get you up and casting again in no time," Harry promised in a thick voice. "Thankfully, that spell they used requires some preparation. They had a carpet of sorts with them with a rune circle embroidered. Draco was able to get it when they tried to escape and it proved invaluable in reversing the damage that's been done."

It was hard to think through the fog still lingering in his head, but Harry seemed optimistic enough. Not the pitiful kind used when someone was on death's doorstep but the proper kind. Fully expecting him to get better in time. 

"Thank you," he whispered, normal talking still too much of a strain. 

Harry merely smiled at him in return and squeezed his hand. Then, he conjured a comfortable chair, _ accio'_d a book from somewhere and settled in to read, one hand still holding his. 

Voldemort relaxed back into the soft blankets and cushions around him and closed his eyes. 

It had been seven years now since Harry had surrendered willingly in the Department of Mysteries to save his godfather. Six years since they had realised he was a horcrux. Five years since they'd won the war and four years since they'd become lovers. 

With every year with the boy, _ his horcrux_, at his side, Voldemort had felt sanity returning to him in bits and pieces.

First, feelings long thought lost had started returning to the surface. Loss. Tenderness. Affection. 

The first time the man, boy then, had looked at him not with anger and hate but pity and kindness. The pull between the soul they both housed, yearning to be one again. 

It had pulled them together once Harry had stopped resisting– after they'd taken over the ministry and reformed Magical Britain. After the boy had seen that not everything was worse for wizardkind.

Their first kiss– tender and sweet, no hint of tongue or teeth, just two warm pairs of lips meeting in the middle. 

He'd never told Harry, or anyone (and never would) but it had been the first kiss he'd ever shared with anyone. 

How fitting that it would be with a part of himself. 

With that comforting thought, he went under once more. 

-o-

"No, but that doesn't make any sense. By _ rights_, this formula shouldn't work like that." 

The voice next to his bed was mumbling at a rapid pace and Voldemort was glad to see he actually understood what was being said. 

He screwed his eyes open slowly and saw Barty poring over a notebook filled with arithmantic formulas and runic arrays. 

"Son," he greeted in a raspy voice and was immediately rewarded with wide-open eyes of cornflower blue. 

"My Lord! Oh it's so good to see you awake!" There were tears in the man's eyes and he blinked rapidly to get rid of them. "Here, drink something." 

He gladly swallowed a few mouthfuls of water and noticed it had become easier than last time. Next, he tried lifting his hand and was relieved when it finally obeyed his command. 

"The treatment worked," Barty breathed. "Finally! I've spent every waking hour in the last month trying to crack that thrice-damned mudblood's spell and I think I _ got it_."

A month!? 

When he voiced that sentiment, Barty regarded him with something akin to pity. 

"A month, yeah. You've been unresponsive for three weeks and… at times we've feared the worst but me and Theo had a breakthrough last week and now it's only a matter of time until you're up and moving again!" 

Soon after, no doubt summoned by Barty, Harry arrived and squeezed his hand again. This time, he was able to squeeze back and the grin he got in return was almost blinding in its intensity. 

He watched Barty and Harry share a meaningful glance with each other. They both looked relieved. 

"We want you with us again by Yule, master," Barty told him. "Tomorrow, we'll start getting you up." 

This night, Harry stayed with him. He still couldn't move more than his hands or close his eyes, but the familiar warmth next to him, curled into his side, made him feel calm and relaxed. 

-o-

It took them a whole week, but by early December, he was sitting unaided. Eating was still a chore but Harry glared at him whenever he so much as thought about using magic to levitate the food to his mouth. 

At the end of the next week, he was standing. Leaning heavily on Harry's shoulder and under Narcissa's watchful eye, but he was standing. The ground looked wobbly and his legs felt like jelly still but progress was progress and he had a deadline to meet. 

A week before Yule, he headed the first meeting since his incapacitation. There was a standing ovation when he entered the meeting hall with Harry at his side, walking to his throne-like chair at the head of the long table by his own strength. 

Once they were seated, the doors burst open once more and dozens of eyes moved to stare at his third in command, standing in the doorway with a look of triumph on his face. 

"My lord," Barty intoned solemnly. "As a present for your faster than anticipated recuperation, I present to you– Hermione Granger, leader of the insurgence, head of the so-called _ Order of the Phoenix_."

Draco and Theodore brought in the mudblood, snarling and fighting against her magic-binding manacles. She was a deft hand at wandless and wordless magic, after all, so it was prudent to be on the safe side. 

Once the thunderous applause from the assembled Knights of Walpurgis had died down, he had them bring the woman to him, making her kneel before his feet. 

She only looked at Harry for the briefest second but he could see the hurt and longing on her face nevertheless. 

"I thank you for this unexpected present," he thundered, revelling in being his voice's master once more. "My lover's would-be assassin, served to me on a silver platter. I would have you suffer for what you wanted to put him through, mudblood, but you don't deserve more attention than you already have. Harry? If you will?" 

There was no flicker of hesitation when Harry drew his wand, pointed it between the mudblood's eyes and chanted: "_ Avada Kedavra._" 

Her expression when she fell to her side was one of surprise and betrayal and the hollow thump when she collided with the floor was very satisfactory. 

-o-

That night, he kissed every inch of Harry's body, telling him how proud he was, how exceptional his decorum had been, caressing the scar and the piece of his soul behind it. 

They didn't do it this way often, but he had Harry stretch and prepare him and mounted his young lover, revelling in the blown pupils and involuntary little thrusts his hips made. 

When Harry came inside of him, Voldemort swallowed every devoted iteration of his name that fell from his lover's lips and rocked into him until the young man bade him stop with giddy, over-stimulated little gasps. 

He lay curled around the smaller man that night, almost like a snake wrapped around its prey and held on for dear life. Much of the night was spent murmuring promises of love and life eternal to each other, silent words of adoration and worship kissed into each other's flesh until their lips were swollen with them. 

Finally, Harry drifted off to sleep and Voldemort spent the rest of the night watching the slight rise and fall of his lover's chest, revelling in the soft, warm life thrumming through the young man's veins. 

When the New Year arrived, he would finally put a stop to the Order for good. He'd hunt them down, one by one, until none remained. 

Nobody who tried taking what was his would live to tell the tale. 

He clung to Harry just a little bit tighter and fell asleep close to dawn with his lover's scent in his nose and the man's heartbeat drumming steadily in his ear. 

**Author's Note:**

> (whoever gets either the hidden meaning or the pun in the title can ask for a HP oneshot of their choosing from me if they want! :D)


End file.
